


Escaflowne Week - Day 2 - Burning/Sacrifice

by Dark Stars (ivorybyrd)



Series: Echoes of Fire and Gold [4]
Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Dilandau wings headcanon, Folken's beginning, Movie Related, Pre-Movie, Prequel sorta to Echoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorybyrd/pseuds/Dark%20Stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The oracle's words turned Folken into a murderer of his clan and family. He searches for his little brother, to maybe give him a deserving death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escaflowne Week - Day 2 - Burning/Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> This was for Escaflowne Week this past January on tumblr! Day 2 was Burning/Sacrifice. Which this kinda goes for both as Folken had to sacrifice a lot to build up the black dragon clan. 
> 
> Also included is the little part that preludes to the beginning of Echoes of Fire and Gold!

He could taste their blood, the blood of his kin, and of his family that stained his lips. The satin like liquid ran down his face, soaking in deep as a reminder. It would take many years to forget this smell. He stepped over the bodies of servant and relative alike. They were just empty shells now, nothing to mourn over. All were equal when death came for them. They deserved this, they all deserved this end.

The serving girls would tease him about his hair, giggling at his expense when he’d get frustrated with them. They’d creep after him, and bother him on end. He slit their throats or stabbed them through their backs. The teachers that scolded him, he removed their heads. Watching as all that knowledge and years of training were wasted. He hated them all. The servants, the teachers, the oracle.

The oracle was first to go, she had been an easy kill. He hung her from her feet, and drained her of her ancient blood, saving it for the men who promised to make him an army.

His father was hardest to kill, calling him a fool as he laughed angrily. His own father tried to kill him! Dune’s hate rushed through him, the betrayal he felt as his father fought back for his life instead of giving it to him.

Dune loved killing his father most of all.

And his mother least of all.

She came up to him, worried, about an unknown assailant that was killing their way through the castle. She ran her hands over his shoulders and along his face to make sure he was ok, she was checking every inch for him for wounds.

He didnt know if she outright ignored the blood that painted his features, or the head that dangled from his grip. Or if she was so distraught that she refused to acknowledge it.

He apologized, and cut through her heart. He wanted her death to be quick and painless. Her handmaidens came to her side and were cut down just as quickly.

“I… forgive you my son..” He heard her say. His stomach jumped and he felt her small hand on his boot. She hadn’t died quietly and quickly as he wanted. She suffered, and so did he.

Maybe he imagined her words. No mother would forgive her son for killing, not him, though he was sure that he may have been spared of her hatred.

He set fire to the entire throne room, which spread through the castle quickly. The tapestries fell around him as he walked, killing anyone who tried rushing him, or ran away. All of his kin were to die, and he’d be the only one alive. They wouldn’t have to see the end of Gaea, or the coming war he would declare on their home world.

A loud sobbing cut through the loud fire, a scream of fear and further crying out. Dune followed the sound, nearly forgetting about his little brother.

The child was well hidden, their years of playing games paid off in Van’s favor.

Dune almost wished the boy would die before he got to him, and that bothered him to no end. He didn’t want to have to kill his child sibling. It would be mercy, there was nothing left for the boy. No coddling mother, no proud father. Nothing.

He found an untouched table and leaned over to examine under it and found it empty. He looked around, pushing through some fallen pieces of wood and castle. “Van..”

The sound of crying subsided and he turned his head to the sound of small feet hitting the floor.

Van stood there, the small cat girl on his back, covered in soot and blood.

For a moment he was thankful, but with an intake of breath he grabbed the handle of his sword. This would be easy, the small boy’s life would end quickly, and hopefully more painlessly than his mother’s.

Van saw Dune’s hand go to his sword and he quickly retreated.

Dune followed, calling out to his brother again, glad the boy made enough noise for him to follow. The more Van evaded him, the more his frustration grew. “Van, come to me right now, you need to listen to your brother.”

Van didn’t respond, and kept hiding away. 

 “Van, if you come out, we can play a game alright?” He was wasting time, soon enough he’d be in danger and if he didn’t have to leave Van to perish in the castle he’d have left too. But that image, of Van frightened without a way out tore at his brain.

Van deserved a painless death, free from fear.

“Van, please come out, I only want to get you out of here.” He lied.

Soon enough Van stopped running away, when Dune found him he was curled up behind a bench with the beast girl in his arms.

Dune reached for the small boy and picked him up. He could still feel warmth on his skin, the erratic pulse and light breath of the boy.

He carried the two of them to the doors that lead outside. Setting them down in the grass, he wanted Van to be as comfortable as possible. It wasn’t Van’s fault this all happened, it was not the boy who declared himself king. Maybe by some twisted fate this is what the oracle foresaw. That he would kill everyone, by all matters Van was now king of the dragon clan.

Van began to stir.

Dune could not draw his sword, he couldn’t move. Was this all a terrible twisted fate? Had she seen through and brought upon the end of their people, or was this really fated to happen. He was suddenly angry and sad. He killed everyone, and became the monster that was swayed by the gods of this world.

He would have his revenge.

“Big.. brother?” He heard the child’s whisper.

It was too late to give Van a parting that would ensure his happiness into the next life. Dune stared down into the blood brown eyes of his little brother, red from smoke and dust, tear filled and full of sadness.

“Dont.. kill me.” Van’s face twisted into a mask of fear and panic. “I’ll be good! I’m sorry!”

Dune froze in his skin, afraid to move unless he’d shatter. “Van, come to me and exact your revenge when you get older.”

Van cried and grasped at his brother’s armor. He screamed unintelligible words and kicked and scratched at his brother to get him to stay. The temper tantrum was for once deserved.

Dune tossed the child back to the ground and stood up, he felt the electricity of power come off the boy.

Van attacked him, the blast hit him in the eye.

Dune grabbed his eye and felt blood slip between his fingers and down his cheek. He looked down to see Van rush off with the feline pulled on his back. He cursed the boy, screaming after him. “I’LL KILL YOU VAN!” He took a few steps forward and collapsed from the searing pain in his head. “I’ll kill you with my own two hands.”

The black dragon clan was his. Gaea was falling to his will, and he was accomplishing everything he ever yearned for. He had conquered and killed, enslaved and manipulated. He was responsible for the execution of many villages, and many races.

He had no doubt that Van was either dead or lost and alone. Probably taken by slavers and would end up in his army one day. It was only time before they saw each other again.

He stepped out onto the dead dirt with a group of his best generals. The wastes were nothing but death and the dying. He’d heard rumors, that a monstrous creature displaying dragon clan abilities had been stirring up trouble. He had used his kind to fuel his experiments, and grow stronger as a force to bring upon destruction. So any blood was needed. This was just another child or villager from Adom that had escaped his wrath. The edge of the wastelands held many small villages, deeper into the forest was met with beast-kin. So they remained on the edge. He had taken out several already, giving them the option to hand over all their strongest, or be burned down. He only had to kill a few before they started volunteering.

This village had been spared that horror just yet. He had plans, organizers that helped him along the way. His sorcerers kept everything in check and he liked it that way. He just had to make the request and it was done. This village was coming to its end soon enough. He looked upon their fear with delight.

The village elder was brought to him, pushed down to where his face was nearly pressed against his boot.

“Tell me old man, there were rumors of a monster in your home?” He asked, wiping the bit of dirt from his boot off on the man’s shoulder. “Tell me where.”

“There’s a small rabid child that comes, we tried scaring him off but one of the kids, got part of his face blown off.” The man kept glancing up, hoping what information he gave would spare them in the future. 

Folken smiled, he liked that potential. “Where was it last seen?”

“We, snatched him up, and put him in a crate.” The man gulped. “Sealed it up.”

“Is it still alive?”

“Barely, he scratches at the sides sometimes. I think someone has been putting food in there for him, it smells something terrible. He was with some feral dogs for a while but then started showing up without them after the last wet season.”

Folken smiled. “Bring me the crate.” Folken ordered to the man and a few of his foot soldiers.

They left to retrieve it.

His projection waited. He had thoughts, he could chop the thing up, use his blood and whatever to make his artificial dragons blood, he could feed the parts to the beasts and see what happened. If the thing was worse for wear, he’d just put it out of its misery.

They returned not much after his thoughts ceased, pushing a small crate towards him. It was barely past his knees and not much wider in the other directions. “Open it.”

The soldiers were hesitant. 

 “NOW.” Folken barked, his eyes narrowing.

They obliged and unsealed the crate with ease. Pulling up the top there was a foul smell that came from it. The creature inside had been there for some time.

“Bring a few buckets of water.” Folken ordered. “Pull it out, it’s too weak to fight back.”

One of the soldiers grimaced but reached in and took the thing by its arm, dragging it from the crate and onto the ground.

Folken couldn’t tell what it looked like, covered in its own filth and blood. It had tried very hard to get out, the lack of nails, the bloodied fists. Yet it was still alive. The heave of its chest and the shake of its body were the only signs of life.

The water came and Folken gave the order. Soon gallons of water were dropped onto the poor thing, cleaning off what had stained him.

The thing had matted silver hair, pale skin that was beginning to turn pink from burning. But what Folken saw was not just a dragon clan child. But something indescribable.

Two fleshy, frightening appendages came from his shoulders, almost like another pair of arms that never grew further than a foot out.

“He’s impure,” Folken said aloud, there were two reasons. His parents had both been of the same bloodline, or that one parent had been human or subhuman in some way. It was a forbidden thing, to create an atrocity as this thing was. It had been allowed to grow into near adolescence. It had been given frightening power, left alone in the wilderness for death but it survived somehow. The thing had barely been older than Van, if not around the same age. He was a bit bigger though, probably a lot stronger.

It moved, scratching at the ground underneath it’s body, whimpering.

Folken removed his cloak, “Wrap it up, the sun is harsh on it’s skin.” He said, handing it to a beast soldier at his right.

The beast man grabbed the boy and wrapped him up.

“We’ll be taking the thing with us, expect our visit in the coming months.” Folken whispered to the village leader. “I will return. Make sure you’ve decided on who will be saving your village to join us.” Now he just had to do something about those disgusting wings on the boy’s back.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this! Thank you for your time and I hope that if you have any feedback/commentary, please let me know!


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